


Kartik’s Past

by AshStoryLover123



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020), Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020) RPF
Genre: Angst, Family, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury, Insecurity, M/M, Post-Canon, Protectiveness, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:35:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23776969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshStoryLover123/pseuds/AshStoryLover123
Summary: “Aman.”Kartik had only uttered his name but Aman already knew. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His chest suddenly felt a little too tight, the house seeming too empty and yet to small all of a sudden.The one where Kartik’s past catches up to them.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	Kartik’s Past

Aman was just about to start making dinner when the phone rang. Kartik’s ringtone. Aman couldn’t deny the spark of relief that went through him. It was close to 9 in the night, and while Kartik did work late at times at the advertising agency he’d recently gotten a job at, he didn’t usually miss Aman’s calls. 

‘Another late day huh,” Aman said in greeting.

“Aman.”

Kartik had only uttered his name but Aman already knew. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His chest suddenly felt a little too tight, the house seeming too empty and yet to small all of a sudden. 

He should’ve known, should have known when his earlier calls had gone straight to voicemail. 

“Kartik.”

“Aman it’s okay. I just need, I need you to come get me,” Kartik said.

Kartik was in pain and desperately trying to hide it, because he knew it would send Aman into a worried frenzy. Aman was already spiraling though. If Kartik needed him to come get him after he’d taken the bike this morning, something was really wrong. 

“Where are you,” Aman managed to get out.

He couldn’t stand this, stand being away from Kartik knowing he was hurting. His hand involuntarily clenched on the knife he held, and it cut the palm of his hand. Aman dropped the knife with a surprised shout. 

“Aman!”

“I’m fine. Where are you Kartik,” Aman gritted out. 

Kartik gave him the address and the pieces fell into place. Why had he gone back there today of all days? Aman kept Kartik on the line, trying to keep his own turbulent emotions under control as he hailed a cab. 

But Aman was beyond worried. The cab ride seemed to stretch on for miles. At some point, Kartik had stopped talking and the line disconnected. Aman was in tears by the time they reached the address. 

He was so worried he could barely think straight, barely hear past the hammering of his heart. If something had happened to Kartik, 

No he wouldn’t think like that. Kartik had to be fine. If Aman was still breathing, Kartik had to be fine. 

Aman roamed the streets like a desperate, half-feral man at 11 in the night, crying out for Kartik, screaming the man’s name. He was supposed to be here. He had to be. 

As the seconds ticked by, Aman slowly began to lose his mind. This couldn’t be happening. They were supposed to be at home, safe. They’d be curled up on the couch now, Kartik’s head in his lap, as they watched a movie. 

He’d wanted to watch Sholay tonight. 

Why would Kartik come back here? 

It was close to midnight when Aman finally heard some commotion. He raced towards it, running faster than he’d probably run in his entire life. The sight before him brought him to a screeching halt. 

At the end of the long alleyway Aman found an older man, about his father’s age with a broken beer bottle in one hand and an iron rod in another. In the flickering streetlight, his eyes showed a manic glee that sent chills down Aman’s spine. 

He recognized those eyes, though they’d never looked like that. Not at him. Not at anyone. 

The man was surrounded by a couple of other younger people, around his age but considerably more burlier. One looked his way. Aman should have backed away if he had any sense, as one by one they turned to him.

But in his heart he knew Kartik might be somewhere behind them, hidden from view, hurting and bleeding and unconscious. 

And nothing these men could ever do hurt could hurt him more than that thought did. 

Suddenly Aman’s mind seemed to reboot, a clear goal in mind. Keep these men away from Kartik, no matter the cost. As a taller boy broke away from the group and began to inch towards him, Aman fished out his phone and dialed the first number in his speed dial. 

And despite it being close to midnight, Devika picked up.

“Aman what,” she started.

“Kartik’s dad. I need help,” Aman managed to get out. 

But then the boy was onto him, and the phone was abruptly snatched out of his hand. Aman prayed Devika had heard and would send help. The boy looked at the phone curiously, before handing it over to the older man.

Aman refused to call him Kartik’s father, even in his own mind. Not after all this vile human being had done and was still doing. The man looked at Aman’s phone and then to him, with a newfound interest. 

“So you’re his latest,” the man uttered. 

Aman said nothing as the man came closer. Up close he could see more similarities in their features, but while Kartik’s face held warmth and affection, this man was a black hole, cold and lifeless.

“How do you live with yourself? Live like this,” the man spat out. 

He gestured to the phone, the background of which was of Kartik. He was sleeping in the picture, in their bed, in Aman’s shirt, serene and vulnerable in a way only Aman got to see. 

And it angered him to no end that Aman’s father had now seen it and was disgusted by it. But Aman kept his cool, knowing it would do no good. 

Devika would come through, she always did. He’d just have to hold his ground until then. Stay calm, collected. 

But those thoughts were literally knocked out of his mind, when a hard slap sent him flying to the ground. Before Aman could even react, there was a hand in his hair, dragging him back up to standing position. 

And Aman couldn’t contain his pained shout as a fist collided with his stomach. 

Aman lurched forward only to be yanked back up and hit again. 

And again. A punch to his face and Aman could feel the bruise forming. 

He just needed to hold out a bit longer and everything would be fine. Devika would come. He’d get Kartik back home and they’d put this whole thing behind them. 

If only he could see Kartik, make sure he was alright. Then they could go back to beating the hell out of him.

But then he was thrown to the ground again and all he could see were feet as they collided with his stomach, his back. Kartik’s father finally came forward with the iron rod. 

And Aman couldn’t help but cry out Kartik’s name, pure agony seeming to set his veins on fire, as the rod came down on his leg.

Kartik was 15, running down the streets of Delhi as his father chased him with his chappal. A couple of kids laughed, while most people just ignored them. It was a daily occurrence after all, and of course nobody cared. 

He was running when he heard someone scream his name. The sheer agony in that tone had Kartik’s heart lurching, and he spun around desperately trying to locate the owner of that voice. He knew who that was, knew that voice better than he knew his own. 

But all he saw was his father running toward him on what seemed like slow motion. 

There was that pained scream again, more agony in it this time. That voice, that voice that comforted him in his darkest moments, whispered reassurances in his ear when the world seemed to be falling apart. The voice that said his name like it was something to be cherished.

The voice that was now screaming his name like he was being ripped apart. 

“Aman!”

Kartik woke up abruptly, mind still trapped in his nightmare. All he could think about was Aman, to the point that he didn’t even recognize the person in front of him and moved to push her away. 

“Aman. He’s in pain, Aman I,” Kartik mumbled incoherently. 

His mind was a jumbled mess, Aman’s scream the only point of distinct clarity. 

“Kartik! Kartik!”

Kartik finally realized who sat in front of him. Devika, eyes wide with worry. That was when everything came rushing back to him. His father and his goons, beating him up for what was probably the hundredth time. He’d finally escaped them, hiding in one of his usual spots. 

He’d called Aman. Aman had been on his way when Kartik had blacked out. 

“Devika where’s Aman,” Kartik asked.

Devika looked taken aback before glancing to her side. Kartik distantly recognized him as Ravi.

“Kartik he called me and told me to get help. He said something about your father before the call got cut. I thought he’d be with you,” she said slowly. 

Kartik’s blood turned to ice in his veins, his cruel nightmare turning into a horrible reality. If his father had so much as laid a finger on Aman, if he’d so much as gone near the man Kartik loved more than life itself, Kartik would kill him. 

“We need to find him,” Ravi said worriedly. 

Just as Kartik managed to get himself off the ground to look for Aman, an earsplitting scream pierced the air. Kartik almost fell to his knees, the wind knocked out of his lungs. His eyes watered involuntarily as he mouthed Aman’s name soundlessly. 

Devika had her arms around him, half supporting half dragging him to the source of the sound. Kartik’s heart had all but stopped. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so much pain in his entire life. 

This was worse than heartbreak, worse than agony or pain or any other word Kartik could find. 

But if hearing Aman’s screaming had been hell, seeing him lying on the ground curled up in a fetal position, bruised bloody and beaten was purgatory.

It felt like someone was strangling him, drowning him and burning him at the stake at the same time. 

Devika gasped beside him as all three of them came to a skidding stop at the entrance to the alleyway. 

The gasp had his father pausing on the downswing of the iron rod, that was wet with blood. 

Aman’s blood. 

And rage like Kartik had never know was twisting inside him, roiling through his gut, choking him of any and all feeling but uncontrollable agony and fury. 

His father had gone after Aman, Aman who’d never been so much as slapped, Aman who fussed when Kartik had so much as a headache, Aman who Kartik had vowed to protect from all the pain he’d been dealt. 

He’d failed so spectacularly in that last aspect. 

Aman’s small form shifted slightly, and those brown eyes looked up at him as his hands tightly gripping the leg his father had mercilessly broken. Above all the pain in Aman’s eyes, Kartik saw relief.

And then those eyes fluttered shut, like that was all Aman had held onto consciousness for. Kartik found himself moving toward Aman but a hand shoved him back.

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” 

Kartik refocused on the miserable human being he had the misfortune of calling father. 

“He doesn’t have quite the same tolerance for pain as you do. One hit and he was screaming your name,” he said. 

And Kartik didn’t think as he grasped his father by the collar, his other hand swinging up to punch the man in the face. 

But the older man had more experience in the physical violence department and blocked his blow deftly before stepping back. 

Kartik took another threatening step forward, but stopped immediately when his father raised the rod over Aman’s seemingly lifeless body. 

That was when police sirens rang out. Immediately his father’s eyes widened before fixating on him accusingly. And then they were all gone. Kartik dropped to his knees before Aman, pulling the man into his lap, cradling Aman’s head against his chest. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Kartik choked out. 

He should have been here. These blows, this pain had been meant for him but he’d run. 

And his father had taken it on Aman instead who shouldn’t have even been here in the first place. 

Aman’s phone lay next to him, cracked down the middle and frozen on his background. It was a picture of him.

It only made Kartik sob harder as he buried his face in Aman’s neck. He felt a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer him comfort. 

But there was no comforting him for this. This would haunt him for the rest of his life. 

“It should have been me,” he voiced in agony.

“Kartik Aman is going to be fine. You need to let him go through so the doctors can do their job,” Devika said. 

Kartik just clutched Aman tighter. He was so still, so small in his arms. His pulse still beat faintly against Kartik’s fingers.

It was the only thing keeping him sane. 

“Kartik he’ll be fine. They’re going to help him,” Devika assured. 

Someone had brought out a stretcher but Kartik ignored it, hoisting Aman up in his arms instead before standing up. Aman whimpered from the movement before shifting closer to his chest. 

Kartik felt like he was dying, over and over again. 

“He’s going to be alright,” Devika reassured again.

Kartik couldn’t here her over the sound of his heart breaking into a million jagged pieces as Aman whimpered his name. 

Aman woke up to the blinding white lights of a hospital room. For a second, confusion filled him before everything came rushing back to him. 

“Kartik,” he gasped out. 

That was when he realized his hand was firmly held by the man in question. Kartik’s head rested on the edge of Aman’s bed in an uncomfortable position. Dry tear tracks ran down Kartik’s cheeks and Aman’s heart twisted. Although he was asleep, Aman could sense he was in pain. 

The room door swung open then and Devika swept in. Even she looked haggard as she glanced towards Kartik first, eyes full of sorrow before fixing on him.

“You’re awake,” she breathed out. 

“How long was I out,” Aman asked.

“A couple hours.” she replied.

“How is he,” Aman asked.

He was almost afraid to ask. He remembered Kartik’s face with crystal clarity as he’d teetered on the edge of consciousness. 

The raw anger, disbelief and pain he’d seen there had scared him. Kartik did wear his heart on his sleeve in some ways, proudly declaring his love and joy for all the world to see. 

But he hid the emotions that really counted. His pain and sadness was something he shared with few, Aman being one of them. 

In that moment in that alleyway though, Kartik had been vulnerable in a way even Aman had only seen a scarce couple of times in the past. 

“It destroyed him Aman, seeing his dad standing over you with that rod. It completely destroyed him,” Devika admitted.

Aman shut his eyes like it would block her words but he knew. He knew Kartik. Kartik would blame himself, punish himself for all that had happened even when nothing was even close to his fault. 

But Aman would fix this, would show him that this was the work for nothing but a cruel man Kartik didn’t deserve to call father. They would get through this.

Kartik stirred then, blinking blearily as he lifted his head. His dark beautiful eyes, full of torment, fixed on Aman. 

Aman didn’t even let the apology cross his lips, even if his eyes apologized a hundred times over. 

“None of this is on you, you hear me. I’m going to be fine. Everything is going to be okay,” Aman stressed. 

More tears fell from Kartik’s eyes as he buried his face against the mattress. Aman sat up, ignoring the protest of his bruises. 

“Kartik look at me,” Aman said.

Kartik just seemed to sob harder, his whole body shaking. 

“Kartik please. I can’t see you like this,” Aman choked out.

Kartik looked up then, no doubt hearing the tears in Aman’s voice that the man desperately tried to hold back. He brought his hands up, cupping Kartik’s face, keeping him in place.

“He hurt you. You were screaming my name and I couldn’t save you, couldn’t get to you in time,” Kartik blabbered.

“You did save me. You came for me,” Aman pressed. 

“This is my fault,” Kartik whispered.

“No it’s not. Kartik this isn’t your fault. You would never hurt me,” Aman said.

It was like Kartik was barely listening to him, drowning in fear and pain and self doubt, leaving Aman behind on the shore to watch. 

“If you hadn’t met me, if you’d been with someone else you wouldn’t be hurt,” Kartik said raggedly.

“I don’t want anybody else. I want you. I will always want you,” Aman said firmly.

Still, nothing got through to him, brightened up the bleak dimness in Kartik’s eyes. Aman wanted to kill that man just for that, for hurting his son over and over, for extinguishing that light again and again. 

“Kartik why did you go back there,” Aman asked.

At that question, Kartik just refused to meet Aman’s eyes, staring at Aman’s chest instead. His voice was small, meeker than Aman had ever heard it.

It was a child’s voice, hopeful without reason. Aman’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest. 

“You gave me a family. You gave me everybody I love, everything I’ve ever wanted. I thought maybe my father might have some relatives, someone I could for our wedding one day,” Kartik trailed off.

“Kartik I don’t need anybody else. All I’ve ever wanted was to find someone like you. You’re enough, more than enough,” Aman assured.

He slowly lifted Kartik’s face up, to meet his gaze. 

“When he beat me I didn’t see your father. All I saw was a cruel man who deserved no attachment to you, and how good you are,” Aman said.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Kartik’s, cupping the back of his neck tightly.

“Let him go Kartik. You have me, you have a new family. Whatever else you want, whatever else you need, I’ll spend the rest of my life finding for you,” Aman promised.

“I don’t need anyone but you,” Kartik whispered.

Aman pulled him into a tight hug. Kartik held him back just as tightly. Aman glanced over the top of his head to Devika who now stood by the door.

She mouthed a thank you towards him, eyes shiny with tears.

Aman just shook his head and held Kartik, his world, his beacon of light, a little tighter. 

They’d get through this. Kartik would no doubt still be haunted by everything that had happened. But one day they’d look back on all of this as nothing more than a dark speck against the bright canvas of stars that marked every moment they shared together. One day Aman would free Kartik of all the shadows of his past that still lingered. 

Aman would accept nothing less and he’d fight for that with all the love he had to give. 

Because Kartik deserved it, deserved to live without pain and fear and guilt. Aman would ensure he got just that.


End file.
